


I wanna go home (with you)

by nothingbutniall



Category: WTFock | Skam (Belgium)
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Introspection, Oslo (City), WTFock Season 2, all the feels, babies in love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-21
Updated: 2019-09-21
Packaged: 2020-10-25 11:00:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,813
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20723108
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nothingbutniall/pseuds/nothingbutniall
Summary: Oslo never felt like home, until Zoë walks the streets with Senne by her side.





	I wanna go home (with you)

**Author's Note:**

> I thought I'd lost these two, but I'm glad they came back to me.
> 
> (Title comes from Liam Payne's Home With You.)

Senne had been dead set on driving his car all the way to Norway, but luckily, he’s nothing if not weak for Zoë, so she won the battle and booked them train tickets instead. It’s a long ride, nearly twenty-four hours of travelling through half of northern Europe, but sometimes, adventure is in the journey, not in the destination.

(At least, that’s what she keeps telling Senne. They’re about halfway, driving through the countryside of Germany, and Zoë has to admit even she’s getting a bit sick of the endless fields and meadows. If she wanted to see cows, she could find them not even half an hour away from Antwerp.)

They’ve got a four-seater to themselves, so their legs are stretched out in front of them, feet on the seats. Zoë is slumped down against Senne’s side, her head resting against his arm.

Senne is miles deep in an obscure Reddit thread, his fingers mindlessly stroking her thigh. Sometimes he lets out a puff of air when he reads something particularly funny. Zoë feels it more than she hears it, his chest going taut just for a second as the air gets pushed out of his lungs.

Zoë’s got a book in her hands, but she’s been reading the same page for the past five minutes and her brain is simply not taking any of it in. At this point, even Japanese would make more sense to her.

She won’t admit it to anyone, not even herself, but she’s weirdly nervous to be back in Oslo. She never felt the need to go back to any of the other cities she used to call home. She’s not attached to them, didn’t bother staying in touch with friends she knew from the beginning she’d have to leave behind. She went out, and explored, but she never memorised street names, because what use is an outdated mental map of a city she had no desire to return to?

Antwerp is different. Whether it is the city, or her friends, or Senne, something about Antwerp makes Zoë want to stay for the first time in her life.

And apparently, Oslo was different, too. She hasn’t missed Norway, barely thought about it since she left, but still, something’s been tugging at her heart strings these past few weeks. A longing to show Senne what her life had been like before she settled down in Antwerp, a desire to make him understand the person she had been.

“Shh,” Senne tells her all of a sudden, pressing a kiss to the top of her head.

She looks up at him with a confused look on her face. “I didn’t say anything.”

He smiles. “You’re thinking too loud.”

“Someone’s gotta do it.” She turns her head, kissing him where she can reach – his shoulder.

“Want me to take your mind of things?”

She sighs and closes her eyes, a smile playing at the corners of her lips. “Behave.”

His hand comes up to ruffle her hair, and he leaves it to rest at the nape of her neck, fingers twisting in her hair. She leans into the touch, falling asleep to the soothing cadence of the train and waking up under a bright blue sky somewhere between Gothenburg and Oslo.

Next to her, Senne is breathing softly, lips slightly parted as his lashes cast shadows on his cheeks. He never looks younger than he does when he’s sleeping, all of the lines and tension fading from his features. As Zoë reaches out to brush a stray lock of hair off his forehead, his face scrunches up slightly and his eyes move behind his eyelids, but he doesn’t wake.

She presses a feather-light kiss to his temple and settles into her chair to watch the landscape fly by.

They’re almost there.

//

Oslo could have become her home, Zoë thinks as she looks up at the station ceiling, sunlight filtering in through the windows between the steel arches. If she’d stayed a bit longer, she probably would have carved a space for herself here. The city hadn’t swallowed her whole like some of the others had before.

Even before she could speak Norwegian, the accent had sounded familiar, almost like a strong Flemish dialect. Though she couldn’t make out the words in the beginning, she loved to listen to people speaking, absorbing the melody of the language.

Here in the station, she struggles to focus on individual voices, but the shreds of conversation she catches give her that same feeling of familiarity they had all those years ago.

Zoë slips her hand in Senne’s and points with her free hand. “The bus station is that way.”

He nods with a smile on his lips. “You still know your way around, huh?”

“Kind of.” She shrugs. “I used to get lost here a lot. I don’t even know how, because the centre isn’t that complicated, but I did anyway. Took me months before I started to remember street names.”

“Here I was, thinking you’d be the tour guide this trip. Thank God for Google Maps,” Senne laughs, wrapping his arm around her shoulder to pull her closer and kissing the side of her head.

“You’re one to talk,” she scoffs. “You literally use your GPS for everything.”

He shakes his head. “No, you must’ve misunderstood me. I use my GPS because I like it when women order me around.”

Zoë groans and slaps his arm. “I hate you. I really, really hate you.” When Senne looks like he’s about to say more, she puts her hand over his mouth. “Shut up. Whatever you’re gonna say, just shut up.”

Of course, mature as he is, Senne sticks his tongue out and licks a broad stripe across the palm of her hand.

A long-suffering sigh escapes Zoë and she rolls her eyes before wiping her hand on his cheek.

There’s a bit of a squabble between them then as Senne grabs Zoë’s wrist in an attempt to lick her cheek, but she’s quick to get away from him when she wants to, so in the end, their fingers are linked together as their hands are raised at shoulder-level, and Senne leans in for a kiss instead.

Even after three months, there are butterflies tumbling over each other in Zoë’s stomach whenever she kisses Senne, and it doesn’t seem like they’ll go anywhere soon. He’s a good kisser, knows exactly how to mould their lips together and when to use tongue and how to bite ever so slightly in the way that makes Zoë’s knees give out.

In the beginning, she used to think he was a good kisser because he’d had so much practice, but one night, he’d told her it hadn’t ever felt like this for him before, either. Now, she believes he is a good kisser because he is a good kisser _for her_. They just click, on every level.

An engine roaring to life makes them break apart, and when Zoë turns to locate the sound, she sees a bus drive away. More specifically, the bus they were supposed to take to get to their hotel. _Damn_.

//

They make it to the hotel just slightly later than they had planned originally. The room they’re given is spacious, almost suite-like, but the bed is only queen-sized.

Not that it matters, because they sleep tangled up most nights now anyway. Milan often jokes he could sleep next to them without them ever noticing a lack of space.

Senne drops his backpack next to the wardrobe, where it lands with a loud thud, and turns to Zoë. “I know we slept on the train, but I wouldn’t mind another nap.”

She laughs and steps closer to peck his lips. “Lazy,” she teases, fondness evident in her tone.

His arms wrap around her in an embrace and she rests her head against his shoulder, letting out a deep sigh. She hadn’t expected to feel quite this many emotions about being back in Oslo.

Before her thoughts can spiral again, Senne lets himself fall sideways on the bed, effectively taking her down with him. He ducks his head down to kiss her and she snuggles closer.

It doesn’t take them long to fall asleep.

//

Zoë is the first to wake up again. She supresses the urge to stretch her arms out, not willing to wake Senne up when she could look at him for hours on end. Like usually, she doesn’t get the chance to do just that, because Senne’s got a sixth sense when it comes to Zoë looking at him. His eyelids flicker and he scrunches up his nose, burying his face in her hair, breathing her in as he comes to his senses.

Zoë likes the way his arms instinctively tighten around her when he yawns, muscles going rigid for a second. She places a kiss underneath his jaw and brushes his hair off his forehead. “Let’s go explore.”

//

She shows him the town house she lived in, three stories tall with floor-to-ceiling windows and a large cherry tree in the front yard. Her room overlooked the back garden and isn’t visible from the street, but she tells Senne about the bay window it had and how she liked to curl up there under a blanket with a cup of tea and watch the seasons change.

They sit down in the café Zoë used to spend time at with her friends after school, because it felt more homely than coming home to an empty house and cooking herself dinner. The interior has changed now, not quite as cosy as it used to be, inspiration clearly taken from Pinterest and Instagram, but the hot chocolate still tastes heavenly, and the cinnamon buns almost convince her to move back to Oslo just so she can have them on the daily.

From the café, it’s a short walk to the school she was supposed to go to before she told her parents she wanted to go back to Belgium, homesick for a country she’d never got the chance to know.

She’d visited Hartvig Nissen school just once, when they organised an open house, but she still feels a little torn standing in front of it now. She’d loved the atmosphere here and she knows she would have fit right in, but in the end, she didn’t love Oslo enough to stay just for this school.

Maybe she’s romanticising it all, anyway. Out of all the countries she’s lived in, she had been happiest in Norway, but it doesn’t even compare to how content she is in Antwerp, living on her own, surrounded by the best people she knows.

It doesn’t come close to the way Senne makes her feel every single day.

Norwegian may have sounded familiar, but she tells Senne she loves him in the only language that really captures it: “Ik zie u graag.”

**Author's Note:**

> I literally don't know anything about Oslo except for what I saw in Skam, so apologies for any misrepresentation/inaccuracies.
> 
> Comments and kudos are appreciated. You can also find me on Twitter (@nothingbutniall)!


End file.
